The best pintxos and Spanish food outside San Sebastián await in Steel City

The two things I’m about to say aren’t food-writer hyper­bole: (1) Justin Severino is the most underrated chef in America. (2) His new restaurant serves the best Spanish food I’ve had outside San Sebastián. I realize all this halfway through my meal at Morcilla, his love letter to the pintxos-eating, cider-drinking, fiercely independent Basque region of northern Spain. In front of me is a refreshing gin and tonic poured with house-made tonic and garnished with juniper berries and citrus, a foamy glass of Trabanco cider (yes, that’s a second drink, but it was dispensed from a two-foot-tall custom tap shaped like an arm!), and an army of small plates that I can’t keep my hands from.

Use prosciutto if Serrano is unavailable, and make sure the relish is nice and acidic to stand up to the richness of the ham and eggs. This recipe is from Morcilla, one of the Hot 10, America's Best New Restaurants 2016.

The aromatic sweetness of the vanilla complements the sharp blue cheese and smoky-spicy sausage, and, since we doubt you’re curing your own chorizo, it’s the single handmade element on this tapas plate. This recipe is from Morcilla, one of the Hot 10, America's Best New Restaurants 2016.

Just because this is an infused mixture of wine, brandy, and orange liqueur doesn’t mean you can just throw anything in there and expect it to taste good. Use spirits you’d be happy to sip on their own. This recipe is from Morcilla, one of the Hot 10, America's Best New Restaurants 2016.

I started with the cured meats because Severino is a charcuterie god. No matter what’s on the menu—chorizo, morcilla, cecina—it will probably be unforgettable. Even the chef’s classic egg tortilla, a dish by which all Spanish restaurants should be judged, comes out firm but still creamy on the inside.

Hilary Prescott Severino and Justin Severino.

Keirnan & Theo

One of the most memorable eating trips of my life was a few years ago in San Sebastián. My meal at Morcilla took me back there. After one croqueta in particular—a sticky, rich mixture of braised pig’s feet and cheeks inside an eggshell-fragile exterior—I began to wonder if I was really in Pittsburgh, standing at a 24-foot-long bar with hams hanging above me. Are the patatas bravas really so crispy that I needed to order seconds? The only thing missing is that thick Basque accent and toothpicks and napkins littering the ground.

Next time I go to Morcilla, I’m rounding up as many friends as I can find, taking over the bar, and ordering one of everything on the 30-plus-item menu. We’re going to eat and drink and party like only the Basque can. Then we’re going to hoist Severino on our shoulders like he’s Steelers legend Franco Harris in 1972. Yeah, America, he’s that awesome.